


Better to Laugh

by infiniteworld8



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Illnesses, Chronic Illness, Disabled Character(s), Friendship, Gen, Jokes About Death, Not Sad but rather contemplative, Richard Gansey III has an autoimmune disease and heart disease, Ronan Lynch in a wheelchair, They all have chronic or Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteworld8/pseuds/infiniteworld8
Summary: Ronan is a few years...maybe months from being confined to a wheelchair, and dying of a terminal illness. Blue, Gansey, and Adam are in similar situations. Gansey is in search of the one thing that can save them, but magic doesn't exist...or maybe it just doesn't until they make our own.





	

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by [Dusty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/adustyspectacle/pseuds/adustyspectacle)
> 
> Any mistakes left are mine. Thanks Dusty!
> 
> This is the first in a series.

Monmouth Wing, Aglionby Memorial Academy

Ronan shifted the bands on his wrist, twisting the leather between his fingers. Sometimes they mocked him, the leather. Leather was tough to break, indestructible almost. It was a sharp contrast to how he was now.

He had good luck and shit luck at the same time. First the good: he was born with money. Second the bad, he was born to die.

The doctors called it a neuromuscular wasting disease. Coupled with another disease that had many names but each had to admit was idiopathic (basically that meant they knew shit about what was happening), life was going to end pretty soon.

Either he’d get what they were now calling Dreamer’s disease and wind up spending hours and hours longer each day in REM sleep, dreaming away his life until slowly his brain shut down. Or his body would shut down first.

He had two brothers and he was the one with the shittiest luck. Declan was healthy… and Matthew… Well, he was healthy for now.

Ronan hated Declan because that was easier. Easier than saying thanks when Declan caught him as his weakened legs threatened to give out, easier than saying “fuck you” and yelling all the things he wanted to yell as Declan went back to the city and left him here to rot.

Easier than just being done with it all.

He had hate and that was something.

His wheelchair was sitting in the corner of his room, staring at him like a specter, waiting to swallow him up. He raised his hand holding his middle finger up at the piece of metal and plastic.

He imagined it watching him as he carefully shifted to the end of his bed and then stopped to pause as even that movement was a struggle. Today was a bad day.

Bad like “Do you need the class period off?” _Fuck his Latin teacher, he’d skip as many classes for as many reasons as he wanted…dragging legs and deadened limbs not include…and permission not needed._

It was bad like “Take your meds, and try to stay out of trouble, I’m trying to help here.” _Declan was always trying to help and didn’t have the damndest idea how._

Bad like “Where’s your chair?”

That was Gansey. His disapproving friend who was going to save them all—was going to save everyone in fact. But fact was, Gansey couldn’t even save himself. He was searching for something that didn’t exist.

Ronan grasped the front of his bed, using that to pull himself up. Pain surged through his legs but he could do this. Had to do this. Wanted to do this… he wasn’t sure what anymore. Sometimes the pain felt good, it dulled his feelings.

He hated feelings. He was no good with feelings.

No good with apologies.

No good with goodbyes.

Hard, and hateful, that was him.

It was easier that way.

Ronan pushed one foot forward. It felt stuck against the floor, but after a moment it moved. He did it again, and then like a body breaking free from quicksand it slowly got easier.

Just in time too. As he reached the door of his Aglioby dorm room (Aka place he was going to die with good schooling and medical care, if Declan had his way). A voice was calling out.

Exasperated, disappointed, scolding, and still vibrant yet… _Gansey._

“Ronan, you missed another class.”

Ronan pulled his face together and stepped out. He bit his lip and leaned slightly against the door. His face had a wry grin on his lips, and his mouth curving with a devil-may-care expression.

_This was Ronan._

Doomed from the start but going down fighting.

“I think we’ve all got better things to do then conjugate Latin.”

“That’s the third class this week.”

Ronan smiled wider, letting his teeth show. “Why are you so concerned dick, nobody’s going to care in a few years—hell, even a few months—whether some long dead kids knew Verpa or Verpus.”

Gansey made a face. Ronan could tell even behind the mask Gansey wore 90% of the time. He didn’t like that joke. None of them liked that joke, but there it was. Ronan preferred to laugh at it all, otherwise what else was there to do? Gansey was always so proper—that’s why it was easy to needle him.  His voice was slightly reprimanding as he raised an eyebrow and said, “Your choice of words are always interesting.”

“Not all of us can have million-dollar vocabularies.”

Ronan shifted restlessly. He noticed Adam wasn’t trailing behind Gansey. He frowned. “Where’s…”

Ronan didn’t have to ask, Gansey frowned, he knew. “He’s…” He stopped and started again. “His labs were off.”

“I thought…”

“Yeah, I did too… but…”

There was no need for anything more, they spoke like this. Half words, meaning more than either said. They had thought maybe Adam would the one to…. Oh who were they kidding?

They were all doomed. Ronan gave a laugh.

He didn’t feel like laughing.

He smirked and took a step forward. “So, he joins the ranks of the condemned.”

He stared at Gansey, and Gansey stared at him.

And then they both looked away.

Ronan started down the stairs. Gansey reached out to grab his elbow as he stumbled.

“Where’s your chair? You’re going to fall down the stairs one of these days.”

“Fuck you, you dick.” Ronan calmly pulled his arm away. He took another step. “At least I’ll go out on my own terms.” He stepped down, carefully placing first the ball, and then the heel of his foot. “It’ll be a laugh, here lies Ronan Lynch, felled in his prime by a staircase.”


End file.
